


Small Favors

by hearteating



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: Guilt, M/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2016-12-14
Packaged: 2018-09-08 15:04:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8849590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hearteating/pseuds/hearteating
Summary: Boromir finds it difficult to refuse Faramir, especially when he asks for so little.





	

Faramir asked for so little. Some extra time to read, or speak with Gandalf, or to listen to music. For Boromir to train with him and assess his capabilities. A word or two of praise from their father.

He asked for so little and yet, their father would have it, he asked for too much. No matter how hard he tried, it seemed that nothing Faramir did would satisfy him. All their father’s praise was reserved for Boromir, and Boromir alone.

Despite this great unfairness, the two brothers loved one another deeply. To Faramir, Boromir was as noble and bold as the kings of old, and Boromir could see in his brother the makings of a great man, wise and fair. They were the best of friends, despite their five-year difference in age, and supported one another in their endeavors. 

 

Boromir found himself uneasy at times at the strength of Faramir’s regard. While many of his younger brother’s peers admired him greatly, there was no one whose good opinion Faramir valued more highly than Boromir’s, save their father’s. He himself, at Faramir’s age, had cared more for the thoughts of those his own age than the thoughts of his family. 

Then again, Faramir was quieter than Boromir had been, which may account for the difference, and there was no end to little brothers trailing in the footsteps of their elder brothers, hoping for a kind word or a smile. So possibly the intensity with which Faramir regarded him was usual. It was no trouble, in any case, to give him what he wanted.

Faramir was fourteen when he first pressed his mouth to Boromir’s. There had been no warning, no signs that Boromir could see, that such a thing would occur, and he was so shocked he did not respond. After a moment, Faramir drew back and dropped his eyes in shame.

“I am sorry,” he said quietly. “I should not have done such a thing. I only wondered…I only wondered what it might be like.”

Boromir, his mouth and body ever faster than his mind, responded:

“Well, little brother, it should not be like that for one such as yourself.” With that, he drew Faramir against him and kissed him. It was nothing like the kisses he had exchanged with maidens in the city—Faramir did not melt against him as they did, nor was he as soft as they were—but the smile Faramir gave him when they parted warmed Boromir’s heart like nothing else.

“Thank you,” Faramir said. Boromir smiled and waved him off. He felt some guilt at what they had done, the two of them brothers, and him the elder, supposed to guide Faramir, but he put it out of his mind. A kiss was only a little thing, after all.

 

Faramir’s next kiss came after their father berated him for losing a field exercise he had been commanding. The loss was not his fault, but such a thing had never mattered to Denethor.

Faramir stood quietly in his room while Boromir paced, elaborating on the ways in which Faramir had succeeded in between promises that their father would see his worth someday, soon. His eyes shone faintly with unshed tears, which Boromir tactfully ignored. As he finished, he placed his hands on Faramir’s shoulders and leaned down to press their foreheads together.

“You will win the next exercise,” he said. “And the one after that. I know it.”

Without a word, Faramir tilted his head and kissed him. His mouth was hot and his eyelashes were damp against Boromir’s cheeks. Unthinking, Boromir kissed him back. As with the first time, it lasted only a short time before they drew apart.

“Thank you,” Faramir said, and smiled that same smile as before. Boromir noticed that some of the tension had drained from his face and shoulders. “Your faith means the world to me, brother.”

 

It was not right, what they did. Boromir knew that. Yet it was not a hardship, to give Faramir the kisses and soft caresses he required for comfort. Nor did it appear that Faramir reserved his affections only for his brother—indeed, Boromir had seen him several times dancing with rosy-cheeked maidens. There were moments when Boromir feared that those tender moments between brothers were orchestrated by Faramir to expose him to their father as weak and unworthy, to forever remove him from their father’s favor, but these thoughts were always followed by the knowledge that it was Faramir who would be more harshly judged, should they ever be discovered.

The things Faramir asked of him were not right, but they were so small, and meant so much. Boromir would most anything for his brother, and new that Faramir felt the same, and would indulge him, were Boromir the one who required comfort in the form of warm kisses and tender embraces. So Boromir did not push him away or tell him to stop.

Faramir asked for so little, after all.


End file.
